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Modus Operandi

If you were to talk to me in Japanese, you would most likely see a side of me that is not visible when I am in my English or Spanish language modes. Do you remember the time when video and audio recording tapes could be set to SP (Standard Play), LP (Long Play), or EP (Extended Play)? Well, my brain has a similar function when it comes to switching gears according to language. I can, in no particular order, function under JLM (Japanese Language Mode), ELM (English Language Mode), or SLM (Spanish Language Mode). Each mode is triggered by the language that I am speaking in, which consequently elicits a series of voice and body language elements inherent to the cultural stereotypes that, in turn, are combined with my very particular sociocultural upbringing.

Very few people have seen me function under the three modes. I have had situations where the three language mechanisms are active simultaneously, although it is very rare. Currently, SLM is the most accessible and neutral one. I spend most of my time with Spanish-speaking friends, clients, and colleagues, and let us say that the overall impression that I project is that of “properness”: carefully chosen words that people may interpret as too polite or even snobbish, hardly any foul-sounding or ill-meaning jargon, and an absence of humor in my tone or diction. My listeners often describe me as pleasant, calm, soothing, and a good listener. Usually, though, my mind is just busy trying to find ways to be funny, or looking for the perfect moment to intervene in a dialogue culture where people seem to understand each other better when they all speak at once.

ELM is my favorite one, the main reason being that it allows me to be wittier and, hence, funnier, a characteristic that is hardly present in the two other modes. I grasp innuendos better and my mind can quickly assemble semantic particles to throw laughing bombs back at my listeners. My diction is very academic from the heavy influence of my university years in the US, thus resulting in the common use of words, such as “to extricate,” “induction,” or “control versus variable.” However, unlike in SLM, “bad” words are devoid of any moral judgment, and these come out smoothly, easily incorporating them into everyday expressions and street jargon. Interestingly enough, I also believe that my body language is more relaxed under ELM, thus projecting a predisposition to communicate in a less complicated, easy-going attitude that characterizes American culture.

JLM, though, is the most fascinating one by far. Burst a monosyllabic word in Japanese and I immediately turn into a 21st century servant with the most formal language use, with a rigid body movement, soft tone of voice, and a sense of folding myself inwards as to create a neatly pressed origami figure. Due to the fact that my education in Japanese did not continue beyond the seventh grade, unlike my English and Spanish, the language is heavily limited in terms of adult vocabulary words. Therefore, should you begin speaking to me about the current world financial crisis, you will easily shut the seventh grade boy’s mouth and he will only smile back at you ever so pleasantly. It is, however, the refinement and aesthetic complexity of the formal Japanese language use that I enjoy the most because there seems to be a carefully crafted standard of diction for every situation and person I am addressing. This is the way in which I was educated back in elementary school by my teachers, and the language rules I assimilated back then have remained firm in their purpose: I feel incapable of using the rougher, harsh-sounding jargon, but I do not use those words that are usually employed only by women, either. The cadence is regular and less dynamic than its Western counterparts, making me a perfect example of a diplomatic speaker. Even though it seems contradictory, speaking in Japanese is also cumbersome. Have you ever thought about social hierarchies? Think of it as if you had to address to kings, princes, presidents, and regular citizens every day, having to adjust your pitch, body language, and diction from one person to another depending on his or her age, status, environment, level of proximity, etc. Feeling the obligation to lower my head to both strangers and those who take advantage of their status (who are many) is unbearable to me. I am good at it, but it always ends up taking its toll emotionally.

For the time being, I want to hold on stronger to the ELM because it gives me a sense of ownership and control over the language, allowing me to express myself better. However, the same way that life is never painted in either black or white, the beauty of language identity is its flexibility across situations. The fact that I can interchange three modes of expression gives me a broad spectrum of communication channels that emit and receive signals through voice, words, body, and contexts. The bottom line, then, is how effective I think I am communicating or want to communicate with people around me beyond the confines of cultural boundaries.

One of the reasons you may be “funnier” in English is because the sense of humor in Spain is so numbed. Perhaps if you were in Argentina you’d have a different feeling. Also, it may be from watching so many Johnny Carson reruns!